


Something Green, Something Gold

by GrimHeaperr



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gore, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurities, Lavellan Rogue, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Partner Betrayal, Self-Indulgent, Sex, Slow Burn, bad at feelings, happy ending probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 07:29:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18090038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimHeaperr/pseuds/GrimHeaperr
Summary: Ruven Lavellan is a hunter of the Lavellan Clan; a group of dalish elves known for trading with humans. He's sent to spy at the Conclave and finds himself without a memory of what happened.His life begins to spiral with his duty to his clan and his duty to the world. As the Herald of Andraste, he becomes more than just Ruven. He's an icon whose fate no longer rests with him, but he wants to help, by the gods and Andraste, he will help.Meeting the Iron Bull is the best thing to come out of his circumstance, or at least, it is until it isn't.





	Something Green, Something Gold

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished DA: I and have a lot of feelings. 
> 
> Fair warning to veterans: I know surface level knowledge of DA, seeing as Inquisition is the first DA game I've played. So if you're also like me, or looking for something new to read, this is written in tandem with canon and my own self-indulgent tendencies. It does help to have a working knowledge of what things are in DA, such as the Dalish, Chantry, the Circle, templars/mages, but that'll be explained later if you don't feel like googling it (I feel you). Dialogue gets rewritten sometimes. Things that happen don't happen as they did in the game, and the love for my elven rogue Inquisitor is very strong right now. And so is my love for Bull.
> 
> Another fair warning: very slow start, like most of my fics smh. Mainly bc I'm trying to write for people who also have minimal knowledge about dragon age.

An unfamiliar pain throbs in Ruven’s left arm. He could feel whatever it was poke and prod under his skin as his head pulsed with an oncoming headache. He slowly came to; his eyes adjusting to the darkness that surrounded him. The smell of musk pinned him in a basement, and when the ringing in his ears died down, he could hear the crackle of flames on a torch. Something green shimmered and popped from his left hand and he grunted, a hot sensation boiling the blood and skin of his left hand. He opened his palm, and in the green light, he could see—

His hand popped again, causing him to gasp and his vision to whiten at the pain. The wooden entrance screeched on its hinges as people came into the cold, musty room.

Four soldiers unsheathed their blades, the metal gleaming in the light of the flames. A woman in Seeker armor stomped toward him, a scowl set deep in her sharp features. She was followed by another, their face shadowed by the purple cloth they kept around their head. When they stepped into the light, the person’s features were round and delicate, red hair pushed back and hidden beneath the cloth. Ruben blinked as he watched them circle him and something clicked.

The left and right hand of the divine.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now,” a cold voice came from beside him. Her accent wrapped around every word. The seeker looked down on him, and Ruven could make out the hilt of the blade at her hip. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead.” She made her way around him and stopped a few inches from his feet. She and the other woman cut him a cold glare. “Except for you.”

_What?_

“What do you mean everyone is dead?” he asked, normal tenor rough and raspy. The woman bent to grab his arm.

“Explain this.” Her grip was like a vice as she brought up his left arm. At the movement, he saw green lightening-like light crackle from his left hand as a fissure ran down his arm. He winced as it pulsed, and bit his tongue as the woman shoved the arm down, the metal of the shackles hitting the stone he sat on.

He looked at her, fear bubbling in his chest. He was a hunter of animals for food and furs — he wasn’t a murderer. At least, not a murderer to humans unless they threatened the Lavellan clan, even then, that courtesy was extended to every living creature.

He didn’t kill anyone at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, at least…

 _I don’t remember._  He looked down at his hand, the green illuminating his skin in a sickly glow before disappearing. He doesn’t know what  _this_  is, much less what the hell it is. He can’t lie, and if he can’t lie, he’ll have to tell the truth. It’s all Ruven has. 

“I, I can’t,” he answered honestly. The two women circled him like a crow awaiting the death of its prey.

“What do you meant you can’t?” The seeker said, her voice as sharp as her blade.

“I don’t know what that is, or how it got there—“

The seeker slammed her hands onto Ruven’s shoulders, digging into the leather of his armor. “You’re lying,” she seethed. Ruven struggled for a second until the other woman pushed the seeker away.

“We need him, Cassandra.” her voice said, soft as a song. Standing between them, she carefully walked up to Ruven.

He didn’t know what to say. Everyone at the conclave is dead? The human clerics, the peace talks… the Divine.

“I cannot believe it,” he muttered to himself, his voice a soft echo in the basement. “All those people… dead.”

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

Ruven closed his eyes, fishing into his whispering memories. When he opened them again, the seeker was walking around him, and the woman who asked the question was looking right at him. He averted his eyes as he thought.

“I remember… running. There were these… monsters? Things? Chasing me and then…” he drifted. He remembered something, something warm and white guiding his way through a hazy tunnel. A hand was offered to him, and attached to the hand was a woman. “A woman?”

“A woman?” the red-haired woman repeated.

“She reached out to me. But then…” Ruven couldn’t remember the rest. He was sent to spy by his clan. This wasn’t an assassination mission. He couldn’t have killed anyone, but he also doesn’t remember, and that makes him a suspect. Even in his own clan, memory loss was not an excuse.

He was going to die here.

He failed.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take him to the rift.” Ruven watched as Cassandra and Leliana shared a glance. Leliana looked at Ruven before turning away. After Leliana left, Cassandra turned to him.

“What did happen?” Ruven asked. He wasn’t a threat. He doesn’t remember, nor is he armed. He was bound in chains. His daggers were probably where his memory was — lost in the snow of the Frostback Mountains.

Cassandra helped him up by grabbing his upper arm. She sighed. With a closer look, Ruven can see the age of her features on her young face. She looked worn and weary. She reminded Ruven of his keeper.

“It would be easier to show you,” she said.

The soldiers resheathed their swords. Cassandra leads the way out with the soldiers following them. They walked down a long stone hallway with statues punctuating every few meters while candles flickered, their flames providing little light and long casting shadows. They made their way up the stairs to what Ruven assumed was the first floor.

The Chantry was lit down its carpeted walkway, the corners and alcoves of the hall shadowed in darkness. It was moments before nightfall the last time Ruven remembered… how long has it been? It sounded like hours.

When a soldier opened the door, Ruven’s eyes were assaulted by the sudden light. He raised his hands to shield himself, and when his vision returned, dark clouds engulfed the sky. The cold wind of the mountain bit at his ears. Ruven wishes his grey-blue hair wasn’t shaved close to his scalp and wished the top of his hair had reached below his ears like in his youth. The blinding light came from a massive tear in the sky. Debris circled around the tear, the ominous color and pulse reflecting what currently resided in Ruven’s hand. His mouth hung open.

“What is that?”

Cassandra sighed. “We call it the Breach. It grows larger with every passing hour.” Ruven can see why they thought he killed everyone at the Conclave. The mark on his hand, the tear in the sky, the only survivor. 

His odds of returning to his clan dwindle in every passing minute. He’s never had a mission go this sour so fast.

The deep scar on his left eye aches at a memory he refuses to acknowledge.

“It came with the explosion at the conclave. We don’t know what caused it,” Cassandra eyes Ruben’s hand, a gesture that makes Ruven flex his hand defensively. “But demons have been coming out of rifts.” 

Ruven’s stomach drops like lead. He can feel the color drain from his face and his body grow limp. His scar, his hand, ached and pulsed. He swallows and focuses on listening to Cassandra.

“More of such rifts have occurred, this one is just the largest. From what we have observed, all were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

Ruven tried imagining the other rifts — big, hulking tears that spit out demons by the second. He imagines the clearing in the deepest part of the forest, ablaze and covered in the gore of his clan, the tear mocking him in his thoughts. He shutters at the thought.

“Can an explosion do all this?” He asks, voice carefully neutral.

“This one did, and unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.” A second after she says that, the tear pulses and lightning cracks the sky.

Ruven drops to his knees as white-hot pain shoots up his arm into his jaw, the sensation numbing the left side of his body momentarily. He grunts through the worse of it and pants as the pain subsides. Cassandra is hovering over him. He blinks back the tears the pain and left in its wake.

“What is happening to me?” He chokes out, voice trembling as his arm seizes. He heals his left arm with his right hand, digging his nails into his wood-color skin.

Cassandra kneels before him, her boots digging into the wet earth and snow. “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads.” Ruven twitches at the implication. “It is killing you.” The Seeker tells him honestly, her voice even and eyes set.

It’s a fact, and Ruven wishes he hadn’t asked.

Cassandra gently placed a hand of Ruven’s shoulder, demanding his attention. “Not all is lost. That mark may be the key to stopping this.”

Ruven grits his teeth as a wave of dull pain wash over him. “The mark? Can it close the Breach?”

Cassandra purses her thin cracked lips. “Maybe, but we must test it first.” She removes herself from Ruven and gets up. “This is your only way to save your self and prove your innocence.” 

“You still suspect me?” Sweat trickles down from Ruven’s forehead as he gets up, still clutching his arm. “You think I would do this? Are you mad? I, I want to help!” 

Cassandra cuts him with a glare, and if he’s had a copper for every glare he’s seen since he woke up, he’ already has the gold to pay himself out of this mess. 

“You’re the only suspect we have, and with your arm, it is easy to place blame on the innocent.” 

“Seems something you humans do often,” Ruven digs. Cassandra doesn’t take the bitter bait and ignores him. She hauls Ruven to his feet and seizes his arm, guiding him through the human camp. As they pass its inhabitants, Ruven detects the animosity. He’s met with glares and scornful looks from soldiers and people. 

“They have decided your guilt. They need it,” Cassandra starts. “The people of Haven mourn our most holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The conclave was hers.” Her voice twinges with a loss that’s familiar to Ruven. The emotion digs deep in his chest as his eyes mist. “It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now they are dead.” 

They come up to a checkpoint, large wooden doors guarded by men and women in uniform. Cassandra nods and the door opens, revealing a snow-covered bridge 

“We lash out like the sky, but we must think above ourselves, as she did. Until the Breach is sealed.” She stopped before him, the metallic sound of a small knife  _clinking_ made Ruven’s ear twitch. “There will be a trial,” she says, pulling Ruven forward by his hand. “I can promise no more.” She swipes at the chains binding Ruven and they clatter to the ground.

“It is not far.”

“Where are you taking me?” Ruven asks. Cassandra doesn’t turn as she answers.

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach.

The trek up the mountain path is steep and covered in bodies, blood, and splintered wood. Ruven’s ears can pick up the distant sound of fighting, the shouts and screams of combat familiar. The Breach in the sky sizzles with energy, and not long up the mountain path, streaks of green rain down. Ruven’s arm pulses with pain that knocks him to the ground.

He hears Cassandra running before he sees her. She lifts him up, her expression and voice sympathetic. “The pulses are coming faster now. The larger the rift grows, the more demons appear.”

Ruven looks to the angered sky, his feelings mixing in with hurt and surprise.

“How did I survive the rift?”

Cassandra sighs. “They say you.. stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious.” Another checkpoint opens before them “They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.” 

Thunder rolls and Ruven can hear the static of lightning before it hits. Green strikes the bridge they’re crossing, cutting Cassandra off mid-sentence as the stone crumbles like dirt from the strike. 

Ruven falls along with the soldiers and Cassandra, rolling off of sharp stone onto the frozen surface of the river below. His ears sing a numbing pain, Cassandra’s orders muted on his ears. The space in front of his wavers, the landscape morphing as green glass sprouts from the ice. A demon shrieks before him.

His mind calculates at a mile a minute. With Cassandra distracted he could leave, but that thought is nipped due to Ruven caring about his life and the demon in front of him. He won’t get very far; its malice honed onto his life. He searches for something, anything, to defend himself with. A sword, a staff, a shield,  _something_ —

His eyes land on a crashed merchant cart behind him, where two daggers are haphazardly strewn over broken crates and cloth. Ruven rolls to them, evading an attack meant for his head and grabs the daggers with comfortable ease. He fights alongside soldiers and Cassandra, and when the fight is over, his muscles strain at how tightly he’s been gripping his daggers throughout the fight.

A haze of a memory pulls itself forward. Red, violent red burns through and the face of a lover contorted in rage. The taste of ash and blood seeps into his mouth. Metallic licks its way up his nose as it slides down his eye. He’s dizzy. He’s dizzy. He’s...

“Drop your weapon. Now!” The cold tip of a blade is pointed to his neck. Ruven grips the hilts of his daggers tighter.

“I need something to defend myself.” He states. The blade doesn’t drop.

“Tell me why I should trust you,” Cassandra demands, her sword gleaming under the light from the Breach.

Ruven tries not to scoff out his answer. “I’m a lot more useful with blades in my hands. I am a dalish hunter. Demons are crawling all over the mountain, and they nearly overwhelmed us. You need backup, and I’m more than capable.”

Ruven watches Cassandra’s unemotional face before it falls, a hint of regret and a splash of acceptance sober her features.

She sighs. “Very well. I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless.” Cassandra put her sword away and Ruven sheathes the daggers into the empty sleeves on his back.

“Thank you,” Ruven says, relieved. Cassandra doesn’t acknowledge him but continues forward. 

Together, they fight demons that litter the mountain path until they reach the base of the forward camp. Ruven’s arm crackles with energy as they near the rift.

“We’re getting close to the rift! You can hear the fighting!” Cassandra says through cold breaths.

“Who’s fighting?” Ruven asks, keenly aware of how humans view the Dalish, especially one who’s head is wanted on a silver serving tray.

“You’ll see soon.”

Ruven’s ears flick at the sound of fighting, louder now and echoing off the mountains. When they reach the edge, Ruven can make out people fighting the demons below. With no hesitation, he jumps down and helps the person closest to him: a dwarf archer fighting in close combat.

Ruven takes a clawed strike meant for the man, talons shredding his leathers as he digs his daggers viscously into the grey demon. An arrow strikes the demon dead center of its head and it crumples to the ground.

He hears the whispers of magic besides him and elvish words familiar to his ears.

An elf is fighting another demon, magic glowing from his staff. Ruven rips into the demon as the magic weakens it, and when it falls, the elf seizes Ruven’s hand.

“Quickly! Before more come through!” The elf points Ruven’s left hand toward a floating green glass-like structure. A burning light blasts through Ruven’s hand and hits the glass-like structure. Ruven watches at the thing begins to rapidly pulse, a noise trickling from the tear and peaking once the structure is destroyed,

Energy claws beneath Ruven’s skin, his arm numb as the heat and pain trickle up his arm. The elf releases his grip and steps back.

Ruven glances at his hand and then to the elf, bewilderment across his facial features. “What did you do?” he asks.

“I did nothing,” the elf responds modestly, “The credit is yours.”

“So… I can help?” Ruven asks dumbly. The elf chuckles lightly.

“Yes. My theory was correct; whatever opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark may seal up the rifts in the Breach’s wake. And it seems I was correct.” Ruven smiles at how pleased his fellow sounds. Ruven opens his mouth to respond, but Cassandra beats him to it.

“That means the mark may close the Breach itself.”

“Possibly. It seems you hold the key to our salvation.” the elf says. Ruven gazes down at the mark, the green cut in his hand moving with an energy unknown to him.

“Good to know!” A new voice joins. “Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” The humor laced in the voice causes Ruven to turn, and the voice belongs to the dwarf man he helped out a few moments ago.

“Varric Tethras,” he introduces. “Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally, unwelcome tag-along.” Varric winks at Cassandra and her displeasure is immediately known.

The dwarf holds no Chantry symbol, but Ruven decides that’s a question for later. “Pleased to met you,” Ruven nods. “I’m Ruven.”

“Please, the pleasure is all mine. With that arm of yours, it will take us no time to clear out the demons.” 

“Absolutely not.” Cassandra steps forward, invading Varric’s space. She huffs. “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but—“ 

“Have you been in the valley recently, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.” Ruven recognizes a shit-eating grin when he sees one and almost laughs. Almost.

“My name is Solas if there are to be introductions,” the elf beside him says, “I’m pleased to see you still live.” 

“He means, ‘I kept that mark form killing you while you slept.’” Varric chimes in.

“Then I owe you my life," Ruven nods to him. "You seem to know a great deal about it all.” 

“Solas is an apostate,” Cassandra answers, “well-versed in such matters.”

“Technically all mages are now apostates, Cassandra. My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer any help I can give at the Breach. If it’s not closed, we are doomed, regardless of origin.” Solas finishes with a shrug.

“That’s a commendable attitude, “Ruven says, and means it. An apostate came to the Chantry at great personal risk, to offer his expertise. From what Ruven can tell, Solas is not afraid of the Circle, and his honesty is refreshing.

“Merely a sensible one. Although, sense appears to be in short supply right now.” Solas turns too Cassandra. “Cassandra, I must warn you, the magic here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

Cassandra nods. “Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly.” Cassandra and Solas walk off.

“Well,” Varric starts, coming to stand beside Ruven for a short while. “Bianca’s excited,” he says. Ruven watches him go, too, for a moment. 

_Bianca?_

 

Ruven follows Cassandra, Varric, and Solas down a path to a riverbank. Solas warns of demons ahead, and Varric calls, “Glad you brought me now, Seeker?” that makes Ruven look to Cassandra.

Cassandra is unfazed by the comment.

The group battle demons on the frozen river, Ruven’s feet light against the cold ice as he strikes and strikes and strikes at close range. He keeps the demons far from Solas and Varric with Cassandra. When they reach the forward camp, an argument echos across the bridge. Ruven recognizes the soft voice of Leliana, but not the cleric she’s arguing with.

As Ruven approaches, Leliana leaves the man’s side as he looks up from a wooden table. “Ah, here they come,” he says bitterly.

“You made it,” Leliana gives the briefest of smiles. “Chancellor Rodrick, this is—“

“I know who he is,” he starts disdainfully, “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.” 

Surprised, Ruven instinctively takes a step back, accidentally bump his shoulders against Solas. Solas ignores Ruven’s whispered apology and steps in front of him, Varric mirroring Solas’ movements.

“You’re ordering me?” Cassandra challenges. “You’re a glorified cleric.  _A bureaucrat.”_

“And you are a thug. A thug who supposedly serves the Chantry.”

“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor. As you well know.” Leliana answers calmly. 

“Justinia is dead!" the Chancellor shouts, "We are meant to elect a replacement.”

“I thought closing the Breach was the most pressing issue?” Ruven phrases his statement as a question. It certainly would have been for his clan. Solas is right: we are doomed unless the Breach can be sealed.

“You brought this on us in the first place!” he shouts, pointing a finger directly at Ruven. Cassandra rolls her neck and walks up to the Chancellor.

“Call the retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.”

“We can stop this before it’s too late,” Cassandra argues.

“How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers.” The Chancellor says with certified conviction.

“We must get to the temple, it is the quickest route,” Cassandra says.

“But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.” Leliana gestures to the mountain in the distance.

“We lost an entire squad on that path,” Cassandra states. “It’s too risky.”

“Listen to me. Abandon this now. Before more lives are lost.” Chancellor Rodrick says, voice pleading. Ruven’s ears flick in annoyance.  _Does he want to abandon all these people? The deaths from the fights will be in vain if they retreat._

“Coward,” Ruven says under his breath, causing Varric to laugh and Solas to quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Me? A coward? How dare—“

Chancellor Rodrick doesn’t get far with that sentence. The Breach expands and Ruven’s hand crackles and pops in response. His arm begins to twitch as the energy grows and glows on his palm. It glitters a green light just as quickly as it appeared.

“How do you think we should proceed?”

Ruven looks at Cassandra, then to Leliana. “You say that your soldiers cannot hold out. Will we need them if we take the mountain path?" 

“No, but the mountain path is treacherous.”

Ruven eyes the looming mountain. The dead lined up in sheets or were splayed across the cold earth. “Will we avoid casualties if we take the mountain?”

“I believe so.” Leliana hums.

Ruven nods. “Then we take the mountain path.”

As promised, the mountain path is treacherous. Demons crawl across the scape. The wooden ladders and lifts that help them reach the pass above are rickety and creak with every heavy step. The mark on Ruven’s hand pulses as they draw closer to the Breach, and soon, they reach the Temple of Sacred Ashes. 

Or what’s left of it anyway.

Before the explosion, the temple stood mighty in the middle of the mountain basin. It had stood proudly for years since the Blight — a cornerstone for Andraste’s followers and those who wished to serve Divine Justinia. Now, the temple was unrecognizable. Ruven stepped over the pieces of rubble and ash, the sight around them grim in the wake of sudden death.

As they walked, Ruven couldn’t see past the massive pieces of fade glass. They were cool to the touch but he could feel the pulse of something warm… almost as if it were alive. Ruven tries not to think about the death he saw at every step. Bodies were frozen in time, a fire burning their already charred body crisp. The smell of burned flesh was heavy, and if Ruven wasn’t used to the smell of gore, he would have gaged.

After a few more meters, they made it to the heart of the Conclave. A floating rift bubbled and shift in mid-air, green light sparking from it. High above the rift was the Breach. Up close, it was brighter. Ruven could pick up the whispers from the Fade. He could feel the energy in his arm prick underneath his skin.

“The Breach is a long way up,” Varric quips, slightly dragging the “o.”

“Isn’t that a bit of an understatement?” Ruven asks, neck craning to look up into the sky. He could see the debris closer now and make out the stone and markings of the Conclave.

“You made it! Thank the Maker.” Leliana greeted, relief in her voice.

Cassandra wastes no time with pleasantries. “Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple.” Without a word, Leliana nods and disappears.

Ruven watches the rift move and shifts before his eyes, an ominous feeling taking residence in his heart. He can feel the winds whisper his name, or perhaps, the whispers from the Fade itself. He knew that going back to his clan was out of the picture after he closes the rift. Looking up at the Breach, he knows it won’t be an easy task to handle. If he’s dying, he won’t be much use to his clan any longer. And if the world dies, he won’t have a clan, or a life, anymore.

Cassandra comes into his line of sight, cutting his thoughts in half. “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

Ruven nods. “I will try. But I don’t know if I can reach the Breach, much less close it.” 

“No,” Solas says, “This rift is the first. It is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.” Ruven looks to Solas, but the other elf doesn’t meet his eyes. Solas sounds so sure, and there’s something there, under his voice, something that ticks a warning off in Ruven’s head.

 _What for?_  he asks himself.

“Then let us find a way down. And be careful.“

Ruven nods and looks around, seeing a staircase across the clearing where the rift is. He moved with haste, feet fast, but soon a voice echoes throughout the temple.

“Now is the hour of our betrayal,” a deep masculine voice starts. Ruven stops, looking up at the charred remains of the walls. He doesn’t sense anything but the shemlen and the others. The voice buries itself deep into Ruven’s bones, threading through the muscle.

It brings a splitting headache.

“Bring forth the sacrifice.”

Ruven clutches his head as he continues forward.

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra asks, voice low and hesitant to ask as if she’s afraid to know the answer.

“At a guess, the person who created the Breach.” Solas answers.

“Is that possible?” Ruven asks, stepping over piles of crystalized soil and crumbling rubble. Solas doesn’t answer him and instead draws his lips into a thin line. He doesn’t know or knows more than he’s letting on. Ruven eyes the Seeker, whose attention is elsewhere. Ruven nods and drops the subject.

As they continue searching for a way down, Ruven sees a glowing red in the charred landscape. When he gets closer, Ruven sees red pulsing crystal sprouting from the dead earth.

“You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker.”

“I see it, Varric.”

“But what’s it doing here?” he grits out. Ruven approaches the red lyrium, the pulsing unnatural, and in the cold of the mountains, he swears there’s… warmth coming from it.

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple. Corrupted it.” Solas suggests. Ruven looks back, a question sewn onto his features.

“It’s evil.” Varric hisses. He gestures to Ruven to step back. “Whatever you do, don’t touch it.” Ruven only nods and backs away as they pass. 

The red hums in the dead of the ashes.

Ruven turns a corner and they find their way down. The stairs are covered in a layer of ash and dust.

“Someone, help me!” A new voice calls, her accent thick and voice threading with pain and fear. 

Cassandra gasps. “That is Divine Justinia’s voice!” Ruven hurries ahead, and from the crumbling end of the stairs, he can see the disaster. 

Debris is scattered throughout the inner level of the temple. Charred bodies are frozen in time, their terror etched into their melting faces. The rift releases green wisps that lick and roll over the floor. A trail of blood-red light stops just below the rift.

 _Lyrium._  

Ruven jumps off the edge and lands with a grunt. Up close, Ruven can hear the rift move and shift, the sound metallic and similar to the sounds that come from a smith’s workshop.

His hand illuminates his arm. It glows a warmth that Ruven hasn’t felt, and the normal pain he felt when it flares has simmered to a dull throb.

“Someone, help me!” The Divine’s voice comes again, louder now that they’re close to the rift. 

“What’s going on here?!” Ruven freezes in place. It’s his voice that said that. 

“That was your voice,” Cassandra says in disbelief, “Most Holy had called out to you.” 

The rift begins to shift at a rapid rate. The light expanded and grew until it opened a window in the world.

A dark, looming figuring with burning red eyes loomed over Divine Justinia. The Divine was bound, floating in midair as a red current kept her arms lifted. Ruven sees movement from the lower part of the window, and he sees himself.

“What’s going on here?!” his voices echos again.

The Divine’s voice comes out warped and no louder than a whisper. “Run while you can! Warn them!”

“We have an intruder.” The deep, demonic voice says. “Kill him. Now.”

The rift shimmers. A white light flashes over them and the image scatters in the cold mountain wind.

“You were there!” Cassandra exclaims, “Who attacked? And the Divine, is she… was this vision true? What are we seeing?”

“I don’t remember,” Ruven tells her, disappointment thick in his tone. Did he help the Divine? Did he save her? Where is she?

“Echos of what happened here,” Solas starts, voice low, “The Fade bleeds. This rift is not sealed, but it is closed, albeit temporarily. I believe, that with the mark, the rift can be opened and sealed properly and safely.” he explains. “However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

“That means demons! Stand ready!” Cassandra orders.

Ruven hears people get into place, scouts positioned along the ledges above them, and soldiers running past them to take their positions along the inner level of the temple. Ruven looks to Cassandra, and she nods.

He lifts his hand up, and light shoots from the cut in his palm. He holds it there for one, two, three moments before the light bursts and the rift tears open. A single stream of light shouts out from the rift and strikes the ground just behind Ruven, Cassandra, Solas, and Varric. From the strike, a large, armored demon roars. It’s mouth filled with teeth like daggers, eyes in two rows and no bigger than slits. Electricity dances across its hard skin, and when it lands, it stalks toward them.

Cassandra lifts her sword to the heavens, her voice echoing as she exclaims, “Now!” Ruven disappears into the landscape as arrows fly past his head. The demon stalks toward his group which gives him the opportunity to come behind the demon.

Ruven stabs his daggers beneath its armored skin, gore bubbling out of the wound and around his blades. It smells of fire and brimstone, a rancid smell burning his nostrils as he pulls his daggers out if its body. It roars, and it laughs.

The demon’s laugh chills Ruven to the bone, deep and menacing, and Ruven fights the memory that masks over his present.

With the help of Varric and Solas, Cassandra and Ruven chip away at the demon’s armor. Ruven’s muscles strain as the fight drags on longer than what Ruven is used to; his training as a hunter allowed him to kill animals instantly so they felt no pain on their way to the gods. Demons, however, are not easy to kill. Ruven rolls away from a sizzling purple lightning bolt meant for him, but his foot catches the tail end of the electricity that bounces from the attack.

His left foot goes numb, and he knows he’s almost as good as dead in this fight. He winces as the numbing pain begins to simmer into a dull heat. He can hear the fighting around him, and he thinks. He can move, can’t he?

He gets up, and his leg is dead weight. It’s heavier than when the Lavellan kids would latch onto his leg for fun, but this —  _Gods, it smarts._

A cool feeling washes over him, and the numbing in his leg disappears in waves. The healing magic mends him in no time. He spares a glance in Solas’ direction, who only gestures for him to get up.

And Ruven does.

The demon goes down, its huffing breath a struggle. Ruven brings his left palm up, the green light shooting out from the open cut and zapping the rift. The rift pushes back, the fight from it shocking Ruven’s sore arm. Ruven holds his left arm up with his right hand, sweat dribbling down his hairline and into his eye as he struggles to keep his arm steady. Soon, the rift explodes, and the trial of green that reaches the Breach dissipates into the sky. Green energy shoots up into the Breach and a pulse ripples across the grey cloud cover.

Ruven sighs as he watches the trail disappear. Around him, the world tilts and soon, his head slams into the burnt rubble underneath his feet.

There’s shouting all around him, but his consciousness slips.

**Author's Note:**

> *pours a bucket of plot points into first chapter*
> 
> plz leave a comment/kudo if ur interested. even if it's just a <3 or something. 
> 
> Also, the story picks up after this. Chapter One is the prologue to Ruven's shitshow and the rest builds up imo because, quite frankly, I hate world building but alas, it is needed.
> 
> You can find me on twitter and tumblr under the handle/user @grimkohai. DMs always open and I'm always excited to make new friends.


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